An Open Letter to God, In the Wake of the Haiti Earthquake

Dear God,

I want to jump right in with the questions: Why? Where are you? How long?  But, first, let me say, “I trust you.”  At least, I want to.

In weeks like this last one, honestly, it’s harder to do.

This planet just doesn’t make sense sometimes.  I’ve gotten to see quite a few parts of it in person – a masterpiece of creation, really.  I’ve marveled at the tides, lapping wave after wave onto a white canvas beach.  I’ve gotten to see towering mountain ranges and sprawling valleys; majestic lakes and trickling, entrancing streams.  I made mud pies with red clay, wiggled my toes in the sands of the Pacific, and planted seeds in the soil of the Appalachian Mts.  I’ve seen Autumn in Kentucky.

And, while I’ve not seen it all personally, through photographers’ art and through satellite lenses I’ve gotten a pretty good idea of your power and beauty and grace. I understand just some little bit about geological formations, outer crust, tectonic plates, and the like.  Something about a living, breathing planet, the scientists say – dynamic, moving …

But when shifting plates crush a city, I don’t understand at all.

When the earth you created collapses under the feet of thousands of people, I don’t understand.

Why?

I’ve seen the pictures.  Lives, families, communities — torn up.  Haitians seem a world away, but I’m bound to them by the human condition we share — that frail human condition, so raw on their faces in the face of that god-forsaken place. Yes, it seems god-forsaken – I don’t know what else to say.  Unsuspecting people died in an instant, others fell under the weight of buildings and cried for help for hours or days.  Simple broken bones turned into fatal wounds because of lack of medical care.  Where were you for them?

Where are you …?  Did you just put this big ball in motion and then step back?  Or do you not see?  Do you not hear?

Or is it that I just don’t understand?

I’m sure that must be it. I believe the words of scripture, that “Your ways are higher than my ways, your thoughts are higher than my thoughts.”  Of course – it would have to be that way.  But that, frankly, doesn’t help right now.

If your ways are higher than my ways, then your eye for justice must be sharp.  Yet I see it … and it seems you don’t … injustice, suffering, pain for the seemingly undeserving.

Can you step in? Are you able to stop this out-of-control planet?

Why don’t you? Why won’t you?

How long until Haitians don’t have to fear?  How long until mothers don’t lose their daughters when all they wanted to do was go outside and play?  How long until memories aren’t scarred?  How long until this place gets set right?

I’ve got a lot of questions right now …

I’m not looking for an excuse to walk away.  I trust you.

I’m not trying to be vindictive, as though I were somehow your equal; as though I were there when you set the stars in their place and formed this big rock we call Earth.

I don’t mean to challenge you. You’re in control.

I just have questions.

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Related posts:

1. Images from Haiti